


The (Unlikely And Unexpected) Proverbial Knight In Shining Armor

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 01:11:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is usually the one doing the rescuing, not the one needing to be rescued. But this time it’s he who is tied up and hurt, and it’s up to Molly to save the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The (Unlikely And Unexpected) Proverbial Knight In Shining Armor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Doctor_WTF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_WTF/gifts).



> One of the prompts Doctor WTF asked for (multiple times) at **sherlockmas** was Sherlock being the one in distress and needing to be rescued by someone unexpected, preferably Molly, Sally or Mrs. Hudson. It’s actually quite fun to write Sherlock in distress.

He was usually not the type to get kidnapped, or to get overwhelmed by someone in a fight. He expected it of the people who helped him; after all, Moriarty had gotten John, and he wouldn't be surprised if Lestrade got in a tight spot once or twice and needed to be rescued. He expected it of them. He also somewhat expected it of Molly, though he would never tell her that. She was a friend now, just as much as the other two, but he always felt that, with her, he needed to be more careful. That she was somehow more delicate. Not because she was a woman, not that. It was more that she had been through so much in her life and he wasn't sure if he should subject her to more. Of course, now that she was helping him on his cases just as much as John was he had to back away from that line of thought.

It had come about in a way he hadn’t expected, Molly’s help. John had built a life for himself that was important to him while he had been gone, and even though he had accepted him back after his return there was not a whole lot of free time in his busy life to help with the cases he had. John barely had enough time for his job and his friends and his wife, having the common complaint that there were simply not enough hours in the day, and Sherlock understood that. One day he had been talking to Molly about it and she volunteered to help when John couldn’t. He had been surprised, but he accepted. Even though they didn’t help as often as he would like having the both of them there had been immeasurably helpful. Molly had turned out to be just as capable and smart as John. Brave as well; not every case they went after was completely without its dangers, but she handled them well. He was finding she was tougher than he had imagined.

He hoped she could be brave right now, though. They had split up to explore the property more, and he had heard the man approach only seconds before he felt the butt of a shotgun to the side of the head. When he came to he was tied to a chair, and he could feel dried blood on the side of his face. He also felt other injuries that had not been there before, deep cuts that had been allowed to bleed and burn marks on his arms. He was also fairly sure he had a few broken fingers on his left hand. Whatever their plans were, they wanted something from him and intended to torture him until they got their answers. He just hoped Molly had been able to escape.

“So, you're awake, eh?” the man said. He saw a second man to his right, smoking a cigarette. That was probably where he got the burns. Sherlock was surprised the act of putting lit cigarettes on his body hadn't jolted him awake. Or maybe it had and his mind was trying to stop him from reacting. He wasn't quite sure. “Maybe now we can get you to talk.”

“What do you want to know?” Sherlock asked, looking at his captors. If giving information would set him free then he would give it. He wanted to solve the case but he valued his life more.

“Everything you've got,” the second man said. “Everything you know about the criminal organization.”

“What criminal organization?” he asked.

“The one Moriarty ran. The one you took down a few years back.”

Suddenly it all clicked. The crime, the case...it had all been a ruse for them to get him and torture the information out of him. They wanted to rebuild, he bet. Pick up where Jim Moriarty had stopped, bring it all back to its former glory. “It's all gone. Everyone is in jail now or dead. There's no organization left.”

The man smoking the cigarette came over. He took the lit cigarette and pressed it into Sherlock's arm. Sherlock writhed slightly but didn't cry out. He had been in pain before and he could handle this. When the man saw he wasn't getting a reaction he tossed the cigarette aside and slugged Sherlock across the face. “Not the answer I was looking for.” Suddenly there was a groan from the side. The man whipped around and pulled out his gun. He was blocking Sherlock's view, but he heard a shotgun click. “Who the bloody hell are you?”

“I'm the one you shouldn't have ignored,” he heard Molly say. He felt more relief at the sound of her voice than he had ever thought possible. The man moved to Sherlock's side and pressed the gun to his temple, and he saw her wielding the shotgun as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “I wouldn't do that if I were you.”

“I'll shoot him before you shoot me,” he said.

“No, actually, you won't.” Sirens were heard in the distance, and lights swept across the windows. “You morons didn't even realize I was here. I called Scotland Yard before I decided to come rescue Sherlock. The place is surrounded.” She nodded up at the walkway above them, and Sherlock and the man both looked. “That would be a sniper up there. He'll shoot you before you get a shot off.”

Sherlock saw the sniper, his gun trained on the man who had hurt him. He waited a moment, then relaxed further as he felt the gun move away from his temple. Within moments the rest of the force came in, but he didn't care about them. All he cared about was Molly, who was cutting the ropes that held him to the chair. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Hey, if it had been me tied up and tortured you would have done the same,” she said with a smile as she got the ropes holding his legs in place cut. “You're my friend. It's the least I could do.” She went to work on the ones holding his arms in place. “Is this job usually so dangerous?”

“It can be,” he said. “But when I have someone like you or John watching my back it is easier.”

“I'll always watch your back,” she said with a nod. She got his arms undone and he stood but then faltered. She wormed her way next to him and helped him stand. “Easy there, Sherlock. They did a number on you.”

“I didn't think the damage was so extensive,” he said with a frown.

“They hurt you badly,” she said. “I think Greg called for a paramedic. Maybe we should go check. Or I should. You should sit back down.”

“That is an excellent idea,” Sherlock said with a nod. She guided him back down to the seat and then she moved away. “Molly?”

“Yes?” she asked, turning to look at him.

“How did you learn to handle a shotgun?” he asked.

She grinned at him, a wide and welcoming grin that he found made him feel better than he had felt all day. “That's one of my secrets. I'll tell you later, when you're all patched up.”

He felt himself grin back slightly as she turned and left. He had to rethink everything he thought he knew about Molly Hooper now. He didn't have to worry about her because if today proved anything at all it was that she could easily take care of herself. And while that would take some getting used to, he realized it was probably the best thing he had ever learned about her.


End file.
